thanks to Trekkiehood for giving me the idea for this chapter. it was super rough to write, so if y'all could let me know what you think and if anything is confusing or just not good, it will, as always, be really appreciated.

also, more thanks to Trekkiehood for giving me advice on how to make the chapter better... that's the reason for the republish :) if anyone has any other suggestions, please let me know. 

*slight trigger warning

Bruce yanked his shirt on and grabbed his emergency kit from where it was stowed before rushing to the back of the jet. He was horrified to see that Steve had collapsed against the table, made for planning but functional for medical treatment, and was trying to pull himself back to his feet with no luck.

Bruce pulled on a mask and gloves, as he ran the last few paces and knelt beside the solider, placing a hand on his back.

"Steve. Steve, it's okay. Breathe. You can't do it... stop trying."

"No," the younger man gasped. "I can... I just..." The words were cut off by a gasp of pain as he got himself halfway up before the strength in his arm gave out a he fell back to the floor.

"Steve!" There was more force in the doctor's voice this time. "Stop, alright?" The words were still firm, but more gentle now.

Steve rested his head against the table he couldn't get himself onto, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that were both a reaction to the pain he was in, and a sign of his frustration with his condition. "I'm sorry," he whimpered, his voice hoarse and choked.

"Hey, it's okay," Bruce told him quietly. "You're okay. Just stop fighting it, alright?"

His eyes still closed, Steve swallowed hard and nodded.

"Thor!" Bruce called over his shoulder. "He can't get up there, I need your help. Grab gloves and a mask from my kit there."

The Asgardian was quick to comply, rushing over to their side of the jet and yanking on a mask and gloves, though the plastic could barely stretch over his hands.

As he did, Steve's breathing escalated rapidly, despite the fact that he was sitting still. By the time Thor was kneeling next to him, he was gasping in every breath in rapid succession, like he wasn't getting oxygen from the air he was breathing.

"Steve..." Thor beat Bruce to it this time, his soft side that came out whenever one of his teammates was hurt or in any kind of pain surfacing once more. "Steve, you have to breathe. Really breathe, alright? With me... one, two... in, and out. In, and out. In... good, that's it. Keep doing that."

Bruce nodded to him briefly in both thanks and approval, and he returned the gesture before looking at Steve again. "Alright, I'm about to lift you. Are you ready?"

The soldier forced his eyes opened and nodded through the sweat and tears flowing down his face.

"Good." Bruce stood up and stepped back to give them room, and Thor situated himself so that he was ready to perform the task. "One... two... three, up."

With an effort and as much help as Steve could give him, he lifted him off of the floor and onto the waiting table. The moment he was there, Bruce was by his side again.

"Alright, now help him get his shirt off then go wash your hands and arms and change your clothes," he ordered.

When he had assisted in removing the shirt from the soldier's sweat-soaked torso, Thor obediently retreated back to the other side of the jet to decontaminate himself, leaving Bruce to desperately try to figure out how to counteract the work of the HYDRA scientists.

As he did, he could see Steve slowly drifting towards unconsciousness. Since he'd checked and his vitals were relatively stable, he decided to allow that. Hopefully, it would help his temperature drop, not to mention remove him from his pain for a while Bruce knew he didn't have any pain killer that would work on the super soldier metabolism he was dealing with.

Time-Skip sponsored by Beanie Babies

An hour later, they were almost back to the tower and Bruce had had little luck in figuring out how to remedy Steve's condition in the slightest. He was desperate to get on the ground so he could have access to all of his equipment and supplies.

Steve had drifted off shortly after they'd gotten him onto the table, and though he'd stirred slightly at times, hadn't woken since.

Bruce looked up at a sound from behind him to see Natasha standing a safe distance away, her concerned gaze focused on Steve.

"Any luck?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head wearily. "I don't know what I'm dealing with here, but I know it's bad. These guys weren't amateurs... this thing is highly advanced and highly immune.

"Are you gonna be able to fix it?"

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but stopped when he saw Steve beginning to stir again, his breath hitching out of the steadiness of sleep. His eyelids fluttered briefly against the light directly above him before opening for real.

Bruce stepped forward as the younger man pushed himself up on one elbow with a soft groan.

"Wha... what'd I do?"

The doctor's brows drew together in confusion, not only at the question, but also at the youth that was suddenly present in his friend's voice . "Steve, you didn't do anything..." he said uncertainly.

"Then why am I here?" He forced himself fully upright and looked around in what was obviously utter confusion.

Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to get him to lay back down. "Hey, you're really sick right now. We're almost home, and then I can..."

Steve cut him off, pulling away from his touch as the confusion in his eyes only increased. " 'm always sick. 's normal. I... I wouldn't be here if I was jus' sick." More urgency entered his voice as he repeated his initial question. "What'd I do?"

"Steve..." It was Nat, cutting in from her position several yards away. "Steve, you're in the wrong year, alright? This is the twenty-first century, you're with the Avengers. It's not the nineteen forties, you're not always sick anymore. Come back to us, Buddy."

He didn't even seem to hear her, his eyes slightly glazed as he stared at the table under him, obviously trying to piece something together in his mind. Then, his eyes snapped shut against n apparent realization.

"Oh, God. Did it again, didn' I?"

"Hey, Steve, I told you, you didn't do anything," Bruce tried, but Steve just shook his head.

"No... I remember taking them. Jumping didn' work so I..." He trailed off, pressing his hands to his face. "Dunno what I was thinkin'! **** it, 'm so stupid!"

Bruce opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked at Natasha and saw that she had the same shocked look on her face. Was Steve really saying what it sounded like he was saying?

Part of him wanted to just continue to try to pull his friend back into the present, but the other part needed to know. Steve had never mentioned... he never talked about his life before. Any of it.

"What did you take, Steve?" he asked gently.

"Don' ya know already?" the young solider responded with frustration that was obviously with himself rather than the person he was speaking to. "I took the pills... all a them. All a mine, all a Mom's, cos she's dead jus' like Dad. Hoped it would be jus' like me in a few hours." There was utter brokenness in his voice when he added, "Guess not."

This time, Bruce really couldn't find words.

This was Steve... this was Captain America. Had he really attempted suicide... multiple times? How was it that none of them knew anything about the man they worked so closely with? All they knew was Captain America. But this... this was Steve Rogers. And Bruce had the sickening feeling that it wasn't a Steve Rogers that lived entirely in the past.

"Promised 'im I wouldn't do this again!" Steve was talking to himself now, like he'd forgotten there were even other people in the room. "Promised 'im I'd call. Why'd I hav't be so stupid? Did I real' think it was gonna work? God, he'll hate me. This is the last straw! He mus' be so done!" There were tears beginning to bite at the soldier's eyes. 

Bruce wanted to say something, anything, but his mouth just wouldn't work. The shame and hurt in his friend's voice were so real, and they were feelings he knew so well. So how was it he'd been oblivious to the evidence of everything his friend had been through?

"Does Bucky know?" The question was soft, shame-filled, voiced without Steve raising his eyes from the ground.

Finally, Bruce was able to unfreeze his tongue. "Steve," he said softly, replacing his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Buddy. I don't know what memory you're reliving right now, but it sounds like it was hell. Come back. It's 2014, you're with the Avengers, you were experimented on by HYDRA and..."

At the mention of their enemy organization, a look of horrible realization washed over Steve's face. His eyes changed, but it was clear he was still far from the present. His next words confirmed it.

"He's dead." His eyes snapped shut, but tears slipped out immediately, joining the sweat already on his face. "It's my fault... I dunno how he... oh, God, he's dead."

"Steve..." Bruce began, squeezing his shoulder desperately, but he pulled away again, turning before the doctor could stop him and dropping to the floor. The moment his weight was on his legs, he crumpled, and his head slammed against the wall of the jet with a painful thud. He went limp there, head resting against the wall.

Bruce turned to see that Thor had joined Natasha and was rushing forward once more. He lifted the super soldier for the second time that day, hauling him back onto the table and stepping back, a look of shocked concern on his face. It matched Bruce and Natasha's.

There was a long moment of silence before Nat glanced at the front of the jet before turning back to Bruce.

"We're landing now," he said softly. "You can get him inside and see if you can fix him up."

there will be a third part